A Melancholy Lily's Serenade
by Amazyrak
Summary: It wasn't like the other pains he'd been through all his life, this was slow and it was...changing him. This story is short for now, but will have a good timeline and well thought plot. As if we don't have enough creature fics. I am thinking to make this Drarry, Draco/Harry. Moving this to T and then will move back to M soon.


**I was going to write more, but I want some peoples opinions on what creature Harry should be before continuing. Read the beginnings of the story, more on this subject at the bottom. Oh and I'm changing the title from "From One Freak to Another" to "A Melancholy Lily's Serenade" and the chapter title to "Slumber"  
**

A Melancholy Lily's Serenade 

Chapter One - Slumber (In the Darkness)

It wasn't sudden, it wasn't fast. It didn't start at midnight, and it didn't make me scream. It never had me thrashing on the wooden floor of Dudley's second room, it never was announced by Dumbledore, or Hermione, or some letter from my long-dead mother. It came slowly, so slowly that I never knew it was even happening at first. Starting with the churning shifts and aches of what I thought at the time was hunger at about noon; it wasn't anything new or different or, Morgana forbid, _out of the ordinary_. It was customary, expected really, to have the gnawing ache in the depths of my stomach. I would be surprised if it was gone.  
The pressure in my skull and limbs were rather ordinary as well. It could be discounted as most anything and so I hadn't thought much of it; even if Vernon hadn't decided to get particularly violent yet this past week, the wounds of his previous drunken expenditures were bad enough to inflict lasting hurt even counting my increased healing speed. Though, it was rather ironic that the thing that condemned me to such treatment was the only thing keeping me tethered, however insufficiently, to life. That didn't matter much now. The aches were rising again, not nearly the short spasms of torture under the Cruciatus I'd known from bumping into Deatheaters over the years, but pain none the less. I never moved, I never even whimpered. It wasn't wise to attract attention, especially when Vernon could wake up…irritable.  
It was all that I could do to pull through conscious as whatever sickness, such damage I knew from experience couldn't be a physical wound, and even as I dared to inch off the rickety bed as not to cause noise from the screeching old metal, I knew myself to be falling into some sort of blackout. The dirty and splintered flooring was harsh and prickly, keeping me awake for only a little longer. My tongue was pushed up to the roof of my mouth, pressure building beneath as it filled with what I could only assume was bile. I let my head loll back to the ground and I attempted to force myself into relaxation. It didn't repress a slightest twitch of battered fingers though and seizures infested my arms. There was still no agony in the movements however, through half lidded eyes I watched as my own body rejected any motion I tried and silently convulsed. I watched myself as I slumped. As I slipped to blackness, my retching shape came to rest in the product of its efforts, vomit and blood seeping into the baggy clothes long since abandoned by Dudley and given to me. The phantom burn of _something_ pulling through my pores and expelling itself trailed me deep into the abyss of Morpheus's domain. But yet, for all the trembles of anguish and pangs of hunger, I slept. And for once in my life I dreamed not of my mother's screams for mercy, nor of the sickly voice of a deranged Voldemort, not even of the crude brands and rolled fists of my Uncle. It may have sounded sappy and cliché, but the encasing darkness held me safe and warm in refuge of the harsh uncaring conditions I lived in. It didn't have a thing to say, didn't have comfort to give, and that made me happy; even if it was only for a moment. It was as if I, for lack of a better word, was loved.

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HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP

* * *

The dream was so pretty, so devastatingly pretty, but it was sad in it's way as well. Light shone softly off the ice ridden appearance of a lily, but though the ice dripped, looking warm, it was not melting. The opposite in fact. The icy droplets on the edges were wavering on the edge of frozen, veins beginning to run through the liquid where air was trapped.

Vines of assaulting fuchsia twisted around the flower, digging in with sharp thorns; but though looking weakened, the lily remained, glowing. Though the light could never reach past the hideously contrasting plantmass of vine, there was no dimming, no falter. Though the pricks of thorns must have pierced the stem too many times for the flower to stand, there was no swaying, no fall.

I reached out to it, the pretty flower. I just wanted to touch it, hold it. I just wanted to cherish that pretty thing, give it a chance to thrive before the vines enclosed around it. I wanted to give it a taste of warmth, before the ice on the petals started to spread. In the darkness, where the only light was the diluted flower, I guess it's okay to want these silly things, since there's no one to watch you. In the darkness, I think it was okay to feel the sobbing tremors rack my body, since there was no one there to judge. And in the darkness, I know it was right when slipped my hands down through the tangled and ugly vines, cupping the flower in my palm and whispering encouragement, but there was no one there to listen.

* * *

**Ok... So I NEED a beta. Did you see that wreck up there? Urgh. So convoluted its not even funny. Blargh. The lily bit is important though, it's a catalyst. Anyone who can tell me what each of the things are a catalyst for, I will bake them cookies...and then eat them in your honor. Now unlike most things I do, this lily thing is absolute, I know how I want to go about this and it will be so gorgeously heartbreaking and sweet. All I will say is that, no, this is not for his mum; however the flower will be changing throughout the course of the story. When you/I decide on the pairing, the flower will change. (Just practically gave the whole thing away right there.)  
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**I definitely want to try my hand at a creature story, hence this intro, and I have a penchant for making my favorite characters too subservient in some cases. It's just my preference and what I find appealing, though that often leads to my stories being slash. I do offer my condolences to the people not attracted to, bored of, repulsed by, or simply do not like homosexual relationships in fanfiction. It's simply how my writing seems to turn out, if you have strong opinions about the subject, feel free to PM me. Harry will still be himself in every way I can think of.  
This will have the Dursleys being abusive, and possibly have Dumbledore being manipulative. Almost certainly will have Ron being a jerk. I don't want to overdo it so tell me if I overwork the plot. I want to have Harry as a creature in this, I am unsure if I should go the general "most purebloods have creature inheritances" route though. I will have everything you can vote on here, place your full vote in the reviews or PM me. The longer the reviews are, the faster I will update. Everything that can be voted on now!  
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**Voting Options. _If anything you want is not listed, please feel free to say so in the review or in a PM._  
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**1. Should I have a slight AU and have Sirius alive?  
Yes/No  
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**2. Should he keep his current friends?  
Yes/No/Only Hermione  
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**3. Should we have a manipulative Dumbledore?  
Yes/No/Unintentionally  
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**4. Should Lily have been an adopted pureblood?  
Yes/No  
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**5. Gathering type creature fic, or soul mate, or neither?  
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**6. Pairings  
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**-Snape  
-Draco  
-Blaise  
-Other  
**


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